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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113618">not the biggest monster in the bed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo'>tiniestawoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>teen wolf tumblr drabbles and ficlets [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Bloodplay, Dark, Darkfic, F/M, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Pain Kink, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sadism, Scarring, Scratching, Threesome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:14:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After splitting from the Nogitsune, Stiles doesn't experience touch the same way he used to. Everything feels wrong, until something that should feel wrong feels just right.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>teen wolf tumblr drabbles and ficlets [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>not the biggest monster in the bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ooooh boy I forgot about this one.</p>
<p>dark times ahead, be warned.</p>
<p>Previously posted <a href="https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/post/617659645291544576/not-the-biggest-monster-in-the-bed-stiles-x">here.</a><a></a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took <i>months</i> after the nogitsune for Stiles to touch himself again. It took months for him to look at his hands and trust that they were <i>his</i> hands, under <i>his</i> control. He woke up every morning counting fingers and toes and reaching for the book he left beside his bed to make sure he could read. </p><p>It faded. </p><p>Malia helped. Malia, with her foggy understanding of human boundaries, pushed Stiles past his mental block, touched him when he couldn’t touch himself. She trusted his hands with her body when he couldn’t trust them with his own. </p><p>And then one day, she lost control while they were fucking. On the cusp of her own orgasm, Stiles had felt the hot sting of lines down his back, and then he’d been coming himself, hard, dizzying, effortless. Malia had apologized profusely but Stiles had quieted her with a kiss, laying there, in a fuzzy, content haze of the burning pain in his back and the aftereffects of the most satisfying orgasm he’d had in years. </p><p>She stopped apologizing after the third time Stiles asked her to do it. He was sure he smelled constantly like pain and dried blood, but he reveled in it. He almost always had long, half-healed, deep scratches on his back, shallow ones on his chest from when Malia rode him, and after one particularly memorable evening involving a vibrating plug, the faintly scarred outline of fangs on his collarbone.</p><p>--</p><p>Theo slamming Stiles up against the chain-link fence tore open week old scratches on his back, leaving Stiles both wincing and half-hard. Theo’s hands were bigger than Malia’s, they gripped his arms effortlessly, digging into the muscle just this side of Stiles’ pain tolerance. Stiles dragged in a breath, careful not to let his eyes drop closed.</p><p>Something dangerous, almost like recognition sparked in Theo’s eyes as the the cocky, smug look on his face slipped into something inquisitive, searching. The hands on Stiles’ arms tightened, and Stiles felt the prick of claws along his triceps, poking through his hoody to break the skin beneath it. Stiles locked eyes with Theo, raising an eyebrow of his own.</p><p>“If you’re trying to hurt me, you’re gonna have to work harder than that.” Stiles said, eyes raking down Theo’s face to look at his throat. “Malia can do better than this on a bad day.” </p><p>Theo’s eyes darkened with lust, and Stiles knew he’d won when the chimera dug his claws in deeper and slammed their mouths together hard enough to bruise.</p><p>--</p><p>It turned out that Stiles wasn’t Theo’s only conquest, and as soon as it became apparent that Theo was after Malia too, the obvious answer presented itself.</p><p>And god was it good. </p><p>A bad, terrible, awful idea, but between what Malia knew he could handle and Theo’s willingness to push him past surface temper, sex became something of a competition between the two shifters. Malia knew all the right buttons to push, knew how to combine a particularly skillful blowjob with a rake of her claws to give him that mix of pain and pleasure that left him breathless. Theo had less practice with it, but learned quickly, and before long Stiles spent most of his time being fucked hard enough to bruise by the chimera while he fucked into Malia, Theo leaving bruises and punctures on his hips while Malia traced well-established lines down his back.</p><p>The only time their relationship was ever soft was when they were all done, sated from the sex, and Malia or Theo would get up, grab the disinfectant and antibiotic ointment and clean Stiles’ wounds. Depending on how many times he’d come, sometimes the sting-burn of the alcohol was enough for Stiles to get hard again. <br/></p><p>Stiles should have felt bad about it, but he didn’t. He felt alive. He felt secure that for once, he wasn’t the biggest monster in the bed, tucked between others who had killed, others who understood or at least respected his need to hurt, to feel.</p><p>And he trusted that if something like the Nogitsune ever happened again, they might even understand enough to kill him before he hurt anyone else. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come see me on <a href="https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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